Chicken Soup
by Emerin
Summary: A poor BoyWhoLived is horribly sick and waiting at Death's door. What ever is a Weasley to do to comfort the disllusional Potter? xSLASH HarryRon x


Fun little one-shot. Inspiration came when I was sick recently and had grand hallucinations that Daniel Radcliffe and my girlfriend came to nurse me back to health...:takes a moment to fully appreciate Nyquil and its wonderful side affects:

Ok, moving on. Harry's OOC a little, but i DID put in there that he was channeling Draco Malfoy, so its ok.XD Anyways. Enjoy the story!

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Harry Potter never fashioned himself a brat. No, he was generally a man of valor, of honor, of chivalry. He would rather face another Horntail than be caught acting like Draco Malfoy. 

But today was an exception. For today was the day he was going to die. Yep, no doubts about it, he was going to die today. Or, at the very least, late tonight after his evening dose of Pepperup. If he even lasted the next few minutes.

Sitting upright after a huge coughing fit threatened torocket his lungs out his mouth, Harry felt the worse for wear, and sagged exhaustedly against the headboard.

No fever should feel this awful. Hermione was wrong. He was dying.

Blowing his nose three times and flinging the offending tissues into the already full trash bin, Harry was almost certain of his oncoming demise. Maybe he should write letters to his loved ones, wishing them well in the future and leaving his treasured possessions to them.

Another coughing fit walloped him hard, resorting him to slumping sideways to keep from toppling over the edge and wheezing out his innards. Bugger them. He was much too tired to be arsed with writing or thinking kind words for anyone.

What about _him_! Where were HIS well wishes and get better's and hope you die soundly in your sleep's?

Bloody wankers. That's it! He just ended each and every one of his relations with his so-called 'friends'.

"Bugger 'em."

"Don't mind if I do."

Harry pried an eye open and growled at his intruder.

Ron Weasley grinned broadly, strutting into the dorm and setting something down out of Harry's line of sight. "I thought you'd be thrilled to see me after being cooped up for a week straight."

Harry sneered and coughed into his pillow, completely not in the mood to be pleasant or show proper posture befitting a Gryffindor prince. Being slumped over his pillow, half his arse sticking up in the air, was just fine for poor sick Harry Potter.

"Aw, c'mon mate, its not HAT bad, is it?" Ron inquired as he walked towards the four-poster bed.

Harry merely glared, "OH, so its back to "mate" is it? In just a week you've had me replaced. The least you could've done was waited till I died."

Ron rolled his eyes skyward.

"Don't give me that look. You've done it, haven't you? You've up and replaced me! I knew it!"

"Oh Harry, calm down. You're gonna make yourself sicker."

"I will NOT calm down and don't speak to me as if I were a child."

"You're 16, you ARE a child."

"I take offense to that. How many 'children' do you know who've faced Voldemort six times and lived to tell about it? NONE I bet you."

"Oh honestly. Harry, you're such a brat."

Harry shot up straight in bed, his jaw grazing his pajama pants. "I am not!"

Ron gave him a good-natured smile and went about cleaning up Harry's tissues, used medicine vials and dirty dishes since none of their dorm mates had stepped foot in the room since Seamus had given Harry the fever.

"You take that back you giant twig! Take it back!"

The boy went on about his business, ignoring the fuming sick brunette on the bed.

"I'm warning you, you freckled cretin, you better take that back or so help me, I'll come back as a ghost and make sure you never get shagged again."

Ron chuckled in his deep tenor sort of way that drove Harry crazy, and threw the last of the garbage away. "Are you channeling Malfoy? The likeness is uncanny."

Harry bristled. Why that no good, backstabbing, two-timing…" That's it! You take it back you pimple-haired freak of nature or I'll hex you another arsehole!"

Ron smirked sitting on the bed next to Harry's hand, and leaned into his personal space. "That sounds promising. As long as I get to try out the results on you."

Harry flushed scarlet and stammered in the most unseemly of fashions. Where was his righteous anger? Where was his indignation? Where was his BRAIN?

In the lap of his pants, that's where.

Ron closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss onto feverish lips. Harry's rage extinguished almost instantaneously and he hated it. Damn that redhead.  
Ron parted his mouth and ran a soft tongue over his fellow Gryffindor's lips, slipping inside and devouring Harry as if he were a piece of candy. The brunette felt dizzy, and it had nothing to do with his fever.

Ron's hands burrowed through thick ebony hair as he kissed Harry harder, moaning softly as was his habit.

"Mmm…so soft…mmm, Harry…."

Harry admitted defeat. He had no defenses left. Ron's moans, touches and kisses were burning him deeper than any sickness could. His very bones were engulfed in flame, Weasley flame. Slowly, Ron laid him back, spreading his wiry body atop the smaller boy's. Harry groaned at the pleasantly familiar weight and arched into Ron's probing fingers. As Ron's lips and teeth found that sweet spot at the base of his neck, Harry muttered various endearments, moans and pleads.

Harry lifted his hips and almost bucked the redhead off of him as he tried to bring more delicious friction to his straining lap.

"Mmmm, Ron. Stop. Teasing. Wanker…" The insult was lost on his lips in a breathy sigh.

Ron's fingertips dipped beneath Harry's waistband and were brushing dangerous circles lower and lower to an area that demanded immediate attention. Harry threw his head back as tiny white stars and brilliant red sunsets rocked him to oblivion.

-8)-

What felt like hours later, Harry felt consciousness creeping its way back into his sedated mind. A cool breeze danced over his hot, bare skin and something extremely soft tickled his forehead. Looking up intotwinkling blueeyes, Harry knew he'd been had.

"You're a manipulative bastard and I love you."

Ron laughed heartily and hugged him tighter." I knew you could be reasoned with."

Harry tried to scowl, but Ron looked so delicious all flushed and thoroughly shagged, and he was just so WARM all curled up beneath Harry, that it just wasn't worth it. "Your mum would be furious if she knew you were depriving me of much needed recuperation."

The redhead grinned and ruffled Harry's raven hair." I AM letting you recuperate. I'm even helping it along."

Harry was stumped. "How is shagging helping me get better faster?"

He smiled and flicked ebony locks out of emerald eyes. "It's not. But I did bring you some soup."

Looking over to the dresser where the boy pointed, there was indeed a thermos of (now stone cold) Weasley Chicken Soup. Harry grinned.

"I think the shagging's more helpful, actually."

Ron returned the grin and pounced Harry eagerly, his very own version of chicken soup.


End file.
